


The Chanukkah Party

by writedontfight



Series: Falsettos one-shots [2]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Character Study, F/F, F/M, Fandom Hanukkah Challenge, Gen, Hanukkah, M/M, a lot of POVs, basically a chanukkah themed character study honestly, culminating at the end into the actual party!, holiday fluff, of the same story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writedontfight/pseuds/writedontfight
Summary: It's a Chanukkah party at the Weisenbachfelds'!





	1. Mendel - Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> These are my works for the 8 Days of Falsettos challenge! (A little late, I know)

It’s harder than you think to organise a family Chanukkah party. Especially with this family. Mendel isn’t particularly fond of the religious parts of the holiday. Afterall, religion is just a trap, isn’t it? Despite having celebrated it all his life, Mendel had never even bothered to learn the prayers. He doesn’t like the prayers. They feel to him no different than a cultist chant, blindly swearing devotion to something that likely does not exist. He’s never believed in a God. Never liked going to temple. Celebrated any holiday the most secular way he could. His Passovers were bare bones and put more emphasis on having good matzo ball soup than in telling a complete and thorough story of the Hebrews escaping Egypt; Rosh Hashanah mostly consisted of him saying Shana Tova to all of his clients; on Yom Kippur, he ate an excessive number of jelly donuts without fasting for a second . And Chanukkah? Well, he brought out the menorah if that counts for anything. And sometimes he remembered to light it. The point is, Mendel, though proudly Jewish, wanted nothing to do with the religious aspects of his culture. And, for a long time, that was that.

Until Trina. Because Trina loves all the holidays. And Mendel loves Trina. So, if she wants the perfect Passover and to go to temple on the high holidays and to recite all the prayers during Chanukkah–not just the one blessing of the candles that Mendel always stuck to–and, if it would make her happy to have a party on the weekend of Chanukkah, then, of course, that’s what Mendel wants, too.

He’s wearing a red cardigan patterned with oversized white dreidels. He bought it as a joke a year ago, but it’s started to grow on him, much to Trina’s and Jason’s obvious dismay. Either way, he’s set on it becoming a tradition for the party at least. Jason is finishing up homework in his room, while Trina finishes the cooking. Mendel has the dining room table all set, with the menorah displayed proudly at its center.

He runs his hand across the the white tablecloth, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles. He straightens a completely straight glass and adjusts an already well-placed salad fork.

“It looks great, Mendel!” Trina calls from the kitchen. She leans over the kitchen island with a smile. “Stop fussing with the place settings and help me clean up the kitchen or help Jason finish his homework, or…. Something. You’re making yourself crazy.”

“I just want it to be perfect,” Mendel says, facing the menorah towards the end of the table, before turning it back towards him.

“Nothing has ever been perfect with this family,” Trina laughs. “But the orientation of the menorah isn’t going to change that.”

Mendel sighs and joins her in the kitchen, picking up a mixing bowl and scrubbing it with the sponge sitting in the sink. Trina joins him at the sink and gives him a warm smile and Mendel feels his heart skip a beat. Married for two years now. And he still gets this feeling like he’s a blushing schoolgirl. Never did he think he’d be with someone like her; so smart and bright and kind and beautiful. God, she’s beautiful, isn’t she? He returns her grin and puts the bowl and sponge down, so his hands are free to take hers. To pull her forward and lean up and-

He hears the doorbell ring and he groans. Trina plants a quick kiss on his lips, before turning towards the door and untying her apron.

Before she can start for the front of the house, though, Jason comes running out of his room. “I’ll get it!” He says cheerily. He skids across the wood floor in his socks and he sees Trina wince as he only barely misses the edge of the table. They hear the door swing open, then, “Hey Whizzer! Hey Dad!”

And Mendel braces himself. Cleaning every corner of the house and setting the table perfectly and getting Jason to change out of the stained t-shirt he wore to school that day? That was the easy part. But now, the party is about to begin, and, as Trina pointed out earlier, nothing has ever been perfect with this family. No, this family makes everything as difficult as humanly possible.

Mendel smiles. He wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. Trina - Free

Marvin didn’t really care about the holidays. Though, to be fair, he didn’t really care about anything that involved the whole family. No, Marvin just gruffly followed along, with no real enthusiasm, except to correct her pronunciations or to criticize the way that she held the damn candles. So, it’s always been up to her, hasn’t it? To make the holidays anything more than another night of fighting, or, worse, suffocating silence. It was up to her to give Jason some semblance of a happy holiday season, or some pride in his Jewish heritage. So she cooked her ass off. And she smiled until her cheeks hurt. And she didn’t say anything when Marvin corrected her perfect pronunciations, or snatched the shamash from her hand and held it the exact same way she had. She remained cheerful and spread applesauce on latkes and served steaming fresh blintzes and wrapped presents with tight corners and big bows for Jason to rip open next to the fireplace. The ironic part is, during this festival of lights–a festival celebrating freedom and hope above all else–she always felt the most trapped.

But things are different now. She is highly aware of Mendel’s aversion to religion. He never misses a chance to remind her of that. But that doesn’t stop him from working as hard as he can to make sure the holidays are perfect for her. He still doesn’t know more than the simple blessing of the candles–and he can’t even sing it–and she always catches him rolling his eyes the minute the blessings have been completed. Yet, he never complains. He matches her cheer, smile for smile. He enthusiastically joins in on the baruch atah adonai because, “Hey! I know that part!”. He even bought that ugly Chanukkah cardigan last year. Though, there’s a part of her that wishes he hadn’t. She and Jason had to hide it last April, when he decided he should wear it to Passover dinner with her parents.

It was he who had suggested the Chanukkah party. She was nostalgically looking over old photos from her family celebrations when she was a kid. She was telling him stories and they were laughing and she was gazing longingly at the photo album. And, without hesitation, he began planning the whole thing. For the entire crazy, chaotic family. Which, when thinking about it now, Trina realizes is a recipe for disaster, despite how well they’ve all been getting along lately. Putting six Jews (and one very spirited goy) in a room together has never been a particularly good idea. Especially not with this particular group of Jews, who have all spent a good amount of time in the pettiest and harshest of feuds with one another.

Still, it excites her. Her childhood Chanukkah parties were never drama-free either (again, putting a bunch of Jews in a room together never is), and it warms her heart to think that Jason might experience the same joy that they brought to her. And, though she imagined an immense amount of stress would be put on her due to the planning and preparing, Mendel had taken on most of the responsibility–and most of the irrational anxiety–leaving her to focus only on the meal. Something she does happily. Mendel had offered to help with that, too, but, for the sake of everyone involved, she had turned the offer down.

Now, though, she’s cleaning up the kitchen. The salad has been tossed, the brisket is finishing up in the oven, and the blintzes are set out on platters on the counters. Cordelia is bringing the latkes and the applesauce this year. Trine, though, has some Trader Joe’s frozen potato pancakes stashed away in the freezer. Just in case.

She looks over the kitchen island, where Mendel is adjusting and readjusting every table setting, with a nervous fervor she hasn’t seen… well, she sees it quite a lot, actually. For all his wonderful attributes, Mendel sure isn’t a calm one. “It looks great, Mendel!” she calls, leaning over the island with a smile. “Stop fussing with the place settings and help me clean up the kitchen or help Jason finish his homework, or…. Something. You’re making yourself crazy.”

“I just want it to be perfect,” Mendel sighs, fiddling with the menorah for the hundredth time in the last hour.

“Nothing has ever been perfect with this family,” Trina laughs. “But the orientation of the menorah isn’t going to change that.”

Mendel nods and joins her in the kitchen, immediately approaching the sink and picking up a sponge. She can’t help the wide smile that spreads across her face. Two years later, and that still amazes her; that willingness to help. No need to be asked. No complaints. No juvenile sighs and groans. No making her feel guilty for wanting him to lend a hand around the house every once in awhile. And she can’t deny that he has a lot in common with her ex-husband–they both have that pretentious intellectual thing about them, that smarter-than-thou attitude, they’re both deeply insecure, yet deeply egotistical, and they’re both shorter than her. So, she has a type. But there are a few glaring differences. Whereas Marvin was selfish, Mendel puts Trina and Jason above all else. Whereas Marvin took his miseries out on everyone in the house, Mendel is kind and caring even on the worst days. Where Marvin was manipulative, Mendel is sincere to a fault. And, of course, Mendel is straight.

When Mendel returns the smile, Trina feels her heart flutter a bit in her chest. He lays down his sponge and takes her hands, his covered in cool, soapy water. He pulls her closer and their lips are only inches apart when the doorbell rings. Mendel groans, but she continues in to plant a quick kiss on his lips, before removing her apron and turning towards the door.

Before she can answer it, though, she hears Jason, rushing out of his room, yelling: “I’ll get it!”

She watches nervously as he skids across the hardwood floor of the living room in his socks. Her heart clenches as he slides towards the corner of the table. She has to suppress the urge to grab him and force him to slow down. He’s twelve, she has to remind herself. He can manage to get across the living room without killing himself. Right?

He does manage it. He swings the door open and greets Marvin and Whizzer. Of course they would get here first. For a long time, she could hardly be in the same room as either of them. But as they come into her line of sight–Jason dragging a smiling Whizzer back to his room while Marvin watches so lovingly and happily–she can’t remember why she’s held onto that spite for so long. It feels so inconsequential, suddenly. So petty. For the first time in years, Trina can feel that hopeful spirit of the holiday; the one she had always tried to force. For the first time in years, Trina feels free.


	3. Marvin - Finally

Until recently, Marvin never had any good memories of the holidays. His parents did everything to the letter of Jewish law for every celebration, which isn’t necessarily the worst thing, but it was certainly very long and wasn’t exactly something a young Marvin really looked forward to. He never even got Chanukkah presents because, according to his parents, “The addition of presents to the festival of lights is nothing more than a western tradition that perpetuates consumerist ideals”. End quote. Which isn’t entirely incorrect perse, but, of course, for a kid, the presents are really most of the appeal of the whole thing. Besides the cheese blintzes. God, he did love blintzes. Unfortunately, though, the holidays weren’t even excuse enough for his parents to treat him with any warmth. No, the chilly atmosphere of the house remained the same, no matter what. And he vowed early on that his future child wouldn’t have to go through any of that. He would buy them the most expensive gifts and be there, smiling and available, on all eight nights.

Well, he stuck to the first part at least. Jason was never left wanting on the gift front. But Marvin never was able to deliver on the holiday cheer. Not while he was still in that house. And thank God for Trina, who plastered that smile on her face and put up with all his bullshit every single year. Because, thank God, Jason loves Chanukkah. Marvin doesn’t know how he would live with himself if, along with all the other shit he put that kid through, he had ruined Chanukkah just like Marvin’s parents had, for so long, ruined it for him. Marvin should tell Trina that. Tell her how sorry he is for making it all so hard on her and how grateful he is that she always stuck it out. That she didn’t break. Not once. He should tell her that. But he knows he won’t.

The first good Chanukkah that he remembers was a few years ago. That first one with Whizzer. It’s not a surprise that Whizzer brings the same passion and flare to the holidays as he does everything else. Once he finished his decorating, it looked like the lovechild of Christmas and Chanukkah had thrown up over every single surface. Thankfully, besides the mistletoe hanging over the door, Whizzer had spared the bedroom. Even he has a hard time getting hard with Santa Claus’s judgemental eyes on him. But the intense decorating came with an intense spirit for the season.

And it was nice. He was warm and affectionate and Marvin came home to him all eight nights. It was exceptionally rare at that time to go so long without Whizzer staying out past midnight doing something that Marvin didn’t want to know about. Yet, there he was. Every night. To light the candles and microwave the frozen blintzes and latkes. Marvin missed the fresh ones that Trina would always make, but that was all he missed really. He was happier, too, this time. Warm. Affectionate. More patient. With Whizzer. With Jason. Even with Trina. And then the magic ended and everything went back to how it was before. But at least they had those nights.

This year is different, though. Because they’re all finally getting along. Because Marvin doesn’t come home anymore to an empty apartment. And if he does, he doesn’t worry about what Whizzer is doing without him. Because he trusts him. Finally. Because that holiday-induced affection and happiness isn’t exclusive to December anymore. Because he even let Jason go over to his mom’s after school today to make things easier on everyone, instead of throwing a fit like he used to do over every tiny change to their custody agreement. Because Marvin finally grew up.

So now, he has a family. And not just a group of people related by blood who simply put up with each other. But a real, caring, wonderful, tight-knit family. So different from what he had always pictured. So much better than that. Finally, he has everything he’s always wanted.

It’s his third outfit change. Not by his choice, of course. It never is. But, according to Whizzer, he can’t wear that tie ever again, especially not to the family Chanukkah party. It used to bother Marvin, these casual insults and this obsession with the way they dressed. But, now, he just laughs and throws supposedly ugly shirts into his face and pins him against the bed so Whizzer can take those hated clothes off for him. Four outfits in, though, after finally deciding not to wear a tie at all, he’s beginning to get a little bit frustrated.

“Look, I don’t care if it looks great, just please tell me this one doesn’t embarrass you too much,” Marvin pleads. “We are going to be late.”

“First off, even if we are late, Charlotte and Cordelia are definitely going to be later, so who really cares?” Whizzer is spread out on the couch, lounging in the way he always has, with his legs spread wide and his arm out, as if holding an imaginary lover, periodically checking his phone with his free hand. “But, no, it doesn’t embarrass me too much. Especially because we know that Mendel will be wearing that awful fucking cardigan.”

“So, what you’re saying that the bar is just set really low.”

“Exactly! You’ll look like a damn Vogue model by comparison,” Whizzer laughs, standing up and adjusting Marvin’s blazer ever so slightly before leaning down for a kiss.

Marvin laughs and pushes him away. “We have to get going.”

Whizzer pouts, but follows him towards the door. As Marvin is walking outside, he turns around suddenly, and pulls Whizzer in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him with a desperate sort of passion, before quickly pulling away. “Okay, that’s it,” he says, quickly turning and making his way downstairs towards the car, Whizzer’s frustrated groans following closely behind him.

As soon as Jason’s smiling face appears in the doorway of Marvin’s old house, he grabs Whizzer's hand, whisking him away to show him some new baseball paraphernalia his mom had bought him for Chanukkah. Whizzer shoots Marvin an apologetic look as he’s dragged away, but all Marvin can do is smile. Because there it is. All he’s ever wanted.

Finally.


	4. Whizzer - Half

For a long time, they were separate. It was Christmas at mom’s and Chanukkah at dad’s. Separate entities. For the first few years of his life, he enjoyed the Chanukkah gifts sitting under the Christmas tree, but his parents split when he was young. Which meant celebrating four nights of Chanukkah. If even that. It meant that he didn’t even have the two holidays in the same house anymore. During the eight nights of Chanukkah, he was Jewish. On December 24th and 25th, he was Christian. And that was it. That was the deal. The rest of the time, he was nothing. An idea perpetuated by the extremes on either side.

It wasn’t until high school hit that he decided that that was bullshit. The push and pull. The all or nothing. It wasn’t until high school that he embraced the “half” before the “Jewish”. When he started wearing Christmas sweaters while he aggressively told every goy he knew, “Happy Chanukkah!” He put up Chanukkah decorations at his mom’s house and Christmas ones at his dad’s. He bought a second menorah so that the four nights could finally turn into eight. And the Christmas lights he strung at his dad’s were white and blue, but they were still Christmas lights. But, though he had made this decision to fuck the all or nothing, there was still a feeling of not fitting in.  Of being perpetually stuck in the middle. Or maybe it’s a perpetual feeling like he’s being ripped in half.

So, he fought Marvin on his ban on evergreen and Santa Claus in the apartment, until, eventually, he gave in. Got worn down, really. Later, having Cordelia and Charlotte around helped. Whenever Marvin got pissed about the Christmas decorations, Whizzer pointed to them. Because if they could coexist and combine it all so well, then why couldn’t he and Marvin? And when Marvin still wouldn’t shut up about it, their apartment could even act as a haven of sorts until Marvin stopped his goddamn bitching.

Because he has never really felt like a Christian. But still he lives for Christmas. And, to him, he’s always been a Jew. So he’s sick of so not being Jewish enough for anyone. Especially Marvin. Marvin, who never stops complaining about how to the letter his parents were about every celebration. Marvin, who half-asses every holiday and who, to Whizzer’s knowledge, has never willingly gone to temple. At least Whizzer puts a bit of effort into it most of the time. But, then again, he has to, doesn’t he? Because if he doesn’t, he’s no longer Jewish at all. At least, not according to the rest of the world.

And that’s the problem, really. With the holidays. Because he feels like he has to tone down the Christmas, or the same thing happens. And it’s easier now, not to feed into that, but the stigma still exists. And it’s worse when the man he’s living with makes it inescapable.

Thankfully, it has gotten better. Not perfect, but better. At least he doesn’t feel like Marvin keeps getting possessed by the ghosts of his aggressively Jewish grandparents anymore. So, that’s a plus. Regardless, he does love Chanukkah, too. And he’s only had a limited experience of celebrating it with Jason, so he’s excited for this party. It’s a chance to have a full family Chanukkah, which he has never really had. It was always one house or another; one parent or the other. This is the first party of the kind with this family. One of the first with any.

Which is why he’s being this picky with Marvin’s outfit choice. He comes out for the fourth time, wearing his usual plaid shirt and too-loose khakis, but he finally dropped that green blazer in exchange for a dark blue one. And he gave up on the ties. Thank God.

“Look, I don’t care if it looks great, just please tell me this one doesn’t embarrass you too much,” Marvin pleads. “We are going to be late.”

“First off, even if we are late, Charlotte and Cordelia are definitely going to be later, so who really cares?” Whizzer looks up from his phone. “But, no, it doesn’t embarrass me _too_  much. Especially because we know that Mendel will be wearing that awful fucking cardigan.” Whizzer will concede that he doesn’t hate the ugly sweater trend. What offends him about the cardigan is its obvious attempt to be stylish. A failing attempt. Ugly sweaters only work when they are aware of their ugliness.

“So, what you’re saying that the bar is just set really low,” Marvin presses.

“Exactly! You’ll look like a damn Vogue model by comparison,” Whizzer laughs, standing up and fixing the collar of Marvin’s jacket before leaning down for a kiss.

Marvin laughs and pushes him away. “We have to get going.”

Whizzer pouts, but follows him towards the door. Since when has a desire to be on time ever overruled the desire for, well, him? He trails behind, almost running into him when Marvin abruptly stops in the doorway. He grabs Whizzer’s collar and drags him down to his height, pressing their lips together for a teasingly short kiss. “Okay, that’s it,” he says, quickly turning and making his way downstairs.

“Asshole,” Whizzer grumbles, groaning dramatically as he follows Marvin towards the car.

Jason is the one who answers the door when they arrive. 10 minutes early, Whizzer thinks grumpily. But at the sight of the boy’s grinning face, Whizzer can’t help but match his wide smile.

“Hey Whizzer! Hey Dad! Happy Chanukkah!” He exclaims.

“Happy Chanukkah!” Whizzer responds.

“Happy Chanukkah, kid!” Marvin says.

Jason grabs Whizzer’s hand and pulls him inside. “I have to show you the jersey my mom bought me for Chanukkah!”

“Okay, coming!” Whizzer laughs, flashing Marvin an apologetic glance. But Marvin is just smiling at them with a starry-eyed gaze. Whizzer turns back to Jason, this kid who is becoming his son. Or something like it. This kid who has made Whizzer understand all the cheesy quotes that middle-aged moms post on Facebook about how wonderful and full their lives are now that they’re parents. This kid, not quite his, who never fails to make him feel whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that chapter is just full self-insertion. But, hey, now you know. Being half-Jewish is fucking great. But it can be hard too! It's easy to start not feeling Jewish enough. It's easy to start feeling like you're stuck between two extremes, neither of which particularly consider you one of them. Which is just never brought up for half-Jews. So be conscious of that.


	5. Jason - Gifts

The first Chanukkah after he left, Marvin bought Jason a chess set. He, of course, already owned one, but that one was plastic and cheesy. The one that his dad bought for him is made of rose wood and its pieces are intricately carved. At first, he kept it on display on his desk at his mom’s house. For a long time, he would sit and play it by himself. He never even used it with his dad. Because he took it to his mom’s house so he could have it with him more often, and Marvin never set foot in there except to start a fight. It wasn’t until the worst fight of them all, that they finally played a game together. Jason expected his dad’s normal competitiveness that night, but it was nowhere to be seen. Jason won the game and Marvin just smiled. Like dads are supposed to do, he supposes. But like his dad never did before. From that day on, Jason would bring the board with him every time he switched houses. It wasn’t so pristinely kept anymore, after all of that travel, but neither Marvin nor Jason cared. “Battle scars,” Marvin calls them. “Something to be proud of.” And Jason likes it that way, too. He used to look at that board–so well-kept, so beautiful, yet never truly played with except by a lonely kid– and think it so superficial. But now Jason looks at it–with scratches and dulled carvings, worn down from frequent use–and it suddenly feels so real.

The first Chanukkah that he had with him, Mendel gave him a book of handmade coupons. Jason looked at it with a blank stare at first, wondering why Mendel had given him the kind of gift that a five-year-old gives to his mom on Mother’s Day. But Mendel looked so hopeful, so Jason smiled and flipped it open. “One Mets game.” His smile became real then. He’d have to wait till the summer to cash that in but it would be worth the wait. “One movie marathon.” Star Wars, of course. Once episode VII came out on DVD. “One night out for whatever dinner you want.” Something greasy and cheap, like his parents never let him have. Fast food burgers and giant milkshakes. Seven more coupons, too. Each written out carefully in pretty handwriting that Jason knows is his mother’s. Mendel has a doctor’s handwriting. He would never be able to make it look this nice. And Mendel followed through on every single one. And more. They spent full weekends together sometimes, when Jason needed a break from all the craziness. And that was when he used most of those coupons anyway. When it all felt overwhelming, it was Mendel who calmed him and made him laugh and talked him through it all. And that’s the best gift he ever gave him.

The first Chanukkah after he and Marvin had broken up, Whizzer bought Jason a camera. Jason would go over to Whizzer’s studio after school every once in awhile, even after the breakup. At first he told his parents he was at chess club or an after school choir rehearsal, but, eventually, that all caught up to him. After the grounding was over,though, they actually let him go back. Jason is pretty sure that Mendel had a lot of influence in that decision. No one ever wanted to talk about it, but when he said he was going to Whizzer’s after school, they didn’t stop him. And that was enough. Sometimes, when Jason was there, Whizzer had clients, and he would let Jason help set up shots, or even let him take the picture (after Whizzer had carefully adjusted the settings and set up the tripod, of course). When he didn’t have clients, they would talk and get the studio ready to be closed up and Whizzer would show him how to take photos. How to set up the lighting and the backdrops and the camera settings. Whizzer would pose in front of the camera, while Jason took picture after picture. So, when December rolled around, Whizzer got him a camera of his own. It’s a 5T Canon, a couple of generations old, but a good, solid camera. “Now that you have this, I’m expecting you to practice,” Whizzer teased. “I’m expecting at least ten pictures a day.” And that’s what Jason did. He didn’t have the best eye. Didn’t have Whizzer’s knack for finding just the right framing or the right angle or the right ISO and shutter speed. But, after a while, Jason started to notice his pictures popping up in Whizzer’s studio, or his apartment. Ones he took of his family or his friends. Or of baseball players that looked like blue and orange dots from his seats at Citi Field. And when Whizzer and Marvin finally got back together, and Whizzer moved back into their apartment, the photos came with him.

It’s the first time he’s had his three dads all together for Chanukkah like this. And sure there will probably be some fighting, but none of it to truly hurt one another. Just family quarrels and disagreements, like all families do. Because, for the first time, he doesn’t have to have three separate Chanukkahs. Because, for the first time, they’re all a family.

The first Chanukkah they have as a family, Jason couldn’t ask for anything more.


	6. Charlotte - Fit

Charlotte remembers, very clearly, being the only non-white family at temple. She remembers sticking out like a sore thumb. She remembers the stares they got from every new family that joined the synagogue. She remembers feeling like a spectacle even to the kids in her Hebrew school, who she had known her whole life. Charlotte remembers never fitting in. And the lesbian thing definitely didn’t help. Being a black, gay, Jewish woman felt like constantly trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t seem to fit in.

So, though her parents made a big deal of Chanukkah, and did their best to make sure that Charlotte was happy, she just couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy it, or take much pride in this culture at all. Like anyone, she just wanted to feel normal for once. But not fitting in meant focusing on school, which meant getting into Stanford and then Yale and then a residency in New York City, where she became one of only a few female doctors in the hospital. For a long while, though, she only celebrated the holidays or acknowledged her Judaism at all when she was with her parents. And, for a while, she thought that that was fine. It didn’t matter really. Because at least she was achieving what she wanted to achieve. And she figured didn’t need a Torah for that.

Along with a bachelor’s degree from Stanford, she had managed to find herself a girlfriend. A girlfriend who eventually became her wife. And Cordelia never made her feel like an outsider. No, with Cordelia, she had found her square hole.

So, of course it was Cordelia that showed her that this repression wasn’t fine at all. It wasn’t until she and Cordelia moved in together in New Haven that Cordelia had insisted that she start celebrating Chanukkah again.

“You can’t let this fear and these scars from your past take away a part of who you are.”

And she was right. Of course she was right. Cordelia is pretty much always right, Charlotte quickly realised. So they bought a menorah and Chanukkah candles and Charlotte had her first Chanukkah in years. The first truly happy one ever.

She still doesn’t go to temple. Not even for the high holidays. It’s not worth it to her to deal with the stares and the murmurs–none with any ill intent, but still not a pleasant sort of attention. But, at home, with Cordelia, she managed to finally rediscover what she had, for so long, hidden away.

Then she met Marvin and became a part of that family as well. And they never looked at her strangely for who she was. They sometimes looked at her strangely when she went off on tangents of complex medical jargon, but she’ll concede that that is understandable. And suddenly it didn’t matter what the rest of the world thought, or whether she fit into anyone’s expectations because she fit right here.

“Delia, we need to get moving!” Charlotte calls from the living room. Cordelia is in the kitchen, working away to make sure her vegan latkes are perfect for the party.

“I’m almost done!” Cordelia says. “They just need five more minutes in the oven and then I’ll pack them up and then I’m ready!”

Charlotte groans. “We’re already late,” she reminds her.

Cordelia pops her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, you can’t rush perfection.”

Charlotte shakes her head with a laugh. “They don’t need to be perfect. They just need to be edible.”

“I know!” Cordelia exclaims. “But we all know my track record with Jewish foods and I don’t want to fuck this one up! So just seven more minutes then we’re out of here.”

“Seven. Then we go. No matter what.”

“Got it!” Cordelia scampers back into the kitchen. But it’s fifteen minutes later that they’re finally carting the platter of latkes and the pot of homemade applesauce out to the car.

“Sorry I took so long,” Cordelia says once they’re driving.

“I fell in love with you, knowing you would always make me late,” Charlotte laughs. “This is what I signed up for.”

Cordelia giggles and hits her arm playfully. “I’m still sorry though.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Charlotte smiles. “I promise.” And it’s the truth. If it weren’t for Cordelia, she imagines she might not be going to this party at all. She might still be stuck trying to fit everyone’s expectations of who she should be, instead of being proud of who she is. She owes Cordelia a lot. But, mostly, she owes her this feeling that, finally, she fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a white person making an attempt to talk about racism, I am always trying my best to be informed and respectful, but please let me know if I screw something up. I will listen. I promise! If I am unintentionally being a dick, I do want to know so it won't happen again!


	7. Cordelia - Delicious

Cordelia is determined to make these delicious. These latkes she slaved over for hours, multiple times grating her knuckles instead of the potatoes. She is determined not to screw them up. She’s a good cook. She knows that. There’s just something about Jewish food that always seems to trip her up. Maybe it’s retribution for tempting a good Jewish girl with her scandalous feminine wiles. Or maybe it’s just the fact that they put eggs or meat in everything, so making it vegan is…. It’s a challenge. Whatever it is, she’s learning. She’s getting better. People don’t spit her food out into napkins anymore when they think she’s not looking. Well, if nothing else, at least she knows the applesauce will be good. And she also knows that there are frozen latkes sitting in Trina’s freezer at this moment, in case this is a total disaster.

When it comes to holidays, Cordelia has always been a fan. No matter what they’re celebrating. She’d throw the most elaborate Groundhog’s Day party you’ve ever seen if Charlotte would let her. But she especially loves the ones that come around in December. Until Charlotte that just meant Christmas, which was great enough. But throwing another holiday into the mix makes Cordelia giddy. She loves the decorations and the joyful spirit. She loves buying people gifts and watching their faces as they open it–except for Marvin, who could be given the keys to the entire universe and still hold onto that same unenthusiastic expression. So, when Charlotte started celebrating Chanukkah, she was happy about more than her girlfriend finally learning to be comfortable with herself. Which, yes, of course was most of the point of convincing her to try it again. But she has to admit that she didn’t hate the idea of getting to participate in another celebration.

Before the first Chanukkah they had together, Cordelia did all the research she could manage. She learned the story behind the holiday, the lesson it taught, its importance, all the traditions and all the prayers. And, of course, she found recipes for all of the traditional foods. That was the first time she realised her inability to cook Jewish delicacies. Thank God for neighborhood delis that stayed open late. She stopped trying after the first few years of latkes that felt like chewing on a hockey puck and blintzes that seemed to have exploded in the oven. Until Jason’s Bar Mitzvah. When she finally swallowed her pride and practiced every single day. And, eventually, she got it just right. Bar Mitzvah food at least. She can only hope that it will translate well.

Over the years, she’s fallen in love with Chanukkah. Of course she still obsesses over Christmas and having the perfect decorations and hosting the perfect Christmas party–with Whizzer’s help. But there’s something about Chanukkah that just resonates with her. Maybe it’s that message of freedom, of remaining hopeful for better days and of finally seeing them come. She’ll sit each night and watch the flames flicker and the wax melt and just remain so entranced by the light coming from the menorah. Charlotte will sometimes sit and watch her watch the candles, a cheesy, sweet smile on her face.

“It’s funny. Sometimes I think you get more out of Chanukkah than I do.”

Until this year, though, she’s only celebrated it with Charlotte. Sometimes Marvin and Whizzer will stop in for a night, but never anything more official than someone remembering about the candles once they’re already tipsy and making stupid jokes in the living room. So, this one is extra special. Which is why Cordelia is so fucking determined to make the most delicious vegan latkes they’ve ever had the pleasure of eating.

“Delia, we need to get moving!” Charlotte calls from the living room. Cordelia shuts the oven door again, determining that they’re not quite brown enough.

“I’m almost done!” Cordelia says. “They just need five more minutes in the oven and then I’ll pack them up and then I’m ready!”

Charlotte groans. “We’re already late,” she reminds her.

Cordelia pops her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, you can’t rush perfection.”

Charlotte shakes her head with a laugh. “They don’t need to be perfect. They just need to be edible.”

“I know!” Cordelia exclaims. “But we all know my track record with Jewish foods and I don’t want to fuck this one up! So just seven more minutes then we’re out of here.”

“Seven. Then we go. No matter what.”

“Got it!” Cordelia scampers back into the kitchen, looking over the recipe for the millionth time to make sure she did everything just to the letter. She pours the pot of applesauce she’s been keeping warm on the stove into a container that’s easier to carry and stares at the platters she’s brought out, determining the very best way to display her perfect potato pancakes. Mostly because if she does nothing while she waits, she feels like her heart will beat out of her goddamn chest. After fifteen minutes of nervously checking the oven and adjusting the presentation, she finally decides that they look good. Good enough at least. But she’s still too scared to actually take a taste.

“Sorry I took so long,” Cordelia says once they’re driving.

“I fell in love with you, knowing you would always make me late,” Charlotte laughs. “This is what I signed up for.”

Cordelia giggles and hits her arm playfully. “I’m still sorry though.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Charlotte smiles. “I promise.”

Cordelia believes her but she still feels bad. Just like she’ll feel bad if her latkes taste like shit again. Not because of her own pride, which is easy for her to let go of. But because, no matter how much she loves this holiday, it’s not hers. She’s a visitor. A tourist. So she can’t be the one to mess it up. Fucking up her own parties and her own holidays? She can handle that. But fucking it up for all the people she loves? That would destroy her.


	8. Something Worth Fighting For

“Are we the first ones here?” Marvin asks, shedding his coat and scarf and hanging them on the rack by the door.

“I told Charlotte and Cordelia six o’clock, but when have those two ever been on time?” Trina says.

“Not once,” Marvin laughs. Trina and Mendel lead him into the living room–Mendel holding a bottle of red wine and four glasses–and sit together on the couch, Mendel’s arm loosely wrapped around Trina’s shoulders. Not too long ago, the small gesture of affection would have made Marvin explode in a fit of anger. But now he just smiles and pours himself a glass of pinot noir and sits down on a loveseat by the fireplace.

Whizzer joins them a few minutes later, Jason trailing along behind him. The loveseat is small, only barely big enough for the two men, but neither mind being pressed so closely together. Marvin leans into Whizzer’s shoulder, feeling Whizzer’s hand trace a path along his back before resting softly on his hip. Jason sits on the opposite end of the couch from Trina and Mendel, eyes suddenly fixated on the phone in his hand. It’s the portrait of a family. A real one. A strange one, sure. But not forced one or broken. Not perfect. Not by a long shot. But a family nonetheless.

 

 

“Sorry we’re late,” Charlotte apologizes as Trina welcomes them inside.

“It’s my fault,” Cordelia says. “I was making these!” She proudly hands trina a platter of latkes. “They took me all day, but it was definitely worth the time.”

Trina smiles and places the latkes on the kitchen island. Charlotte quickly follows suit with the container of applesauce.

“Since we’re all here, let’s get this party going,” Mendel suggests, gesturing to the menorah.

Whizzer jumps up with a smile. “Agreed. I’m starved.” He reaches out a hand to help–or really drag–Marvin to his feet. “Yamakas on, homos! Let’s get this thing lit.”

“‘Let’s get this over with’ isn’t really the attitude we’re going for, but I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Mendel says.

“Then you should’ve provided hors d'oeuvres,” Whizzer grumbles. Marvin elbows him in the side. “Ow!” Whizzer complains.

“Don’t be a dick,” Marvin hisses.

“I’m not being a dick,” Whizzer says. “Jason. Buddy. Am I-”

“Yes,” Jason says, finally putting his phone down and getting up off the couch.

Six people make a failing attempt to stifle their laughter and Whizzer rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You knew what you were getting.”

“Did we?” Trina asks.

Whizzer ignores her and approaches the dining room table, picking up the pack of blue and white candles sitting next to the menorah. He places a full set of nine candles in their holds and steps away proudly.

Cordelia clears her throat. “Isn’t it the fourth night of-”

“More candles, more fun. It’s the cardinal rule of Chanukkah,” Whizzer responds.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Marvin takes out four of the candles and puts them back in their box. “There’s no reasoning with him. You just have to hide these things.”

Whizzer scoffs but slides his arm around Marvin’s waist and draws him close. “I can’t believe he trusts his twelve-year-old son more than he trusts me.”

“That’s because I never try to light every candle every night of Chanukkah,” Jason says.

“See, I think that’s fair,” Charlotte agrees.

“You guys are the worst,” Whizzer groans.

Mendel hands out yamakas to the men. Not that this is a tradition they follow any other night of the holiday. But he figures he should at least make an attempt to do everything right for the party.

“Did you learn the prayers this year, Mendel?” Whizzer asks.

Mendel shoots him a glare, but shakes his head sheepishly. “Trina knows the prayers,” he mutters.

Trina sets the latkes and applesauce on the table before handing Mendel the lighter. “Everyone done with the bickering?” she asks the room. The response is a chorus of nods and yeses. “Alright, then, let’s begin,” she smiles.

 

 

Once the candles are lit and the prayers have been sung–off-key, with plenty of stumbling over words from everyone but Trina–they finally sit for dinner. The menorah is moved carefully back to the mantelpiece, replaced by the shabbat candles and a big loaf of Challah. They don’t plan on going through the whole shabbat ceremony. They never really do. They hardly ever remember to even bring out the candles. But it seems right to at least go through some of the motions tonight.

Whizzer is the first to lunge for a latke, his grumbling stomach taking priority over table manners. Marvin nudges his knee, but Whizzer ignores him. He slathers applesauce on top and takes a bite, while Cordelia watches intensely. As soon as he swallows, Whizzer gives her a broad smile. “Delicious,” he assures her. Cordelia’s sigh of relief is visible, as her shoulders finally relax and she leans back happily in her seat.

“Well, since I guess we’re just eating now, I’ll bring out the rest of the food,” Trina says, looking pointedly at Whizzer.

Whizzer sighs. “I’ll help with that,” he offers as a sort of apology for his lack of patience. When he returns with the brisket, though, Jason’s mouth is full and Marvin and Charlotte are fighting over the applesauce spoon. Whizzer shakes his head and sets the pot down with a grunt. “So it’s rude when I do it, but it’s okay for the rest of you?”

“Hey, you opened the floodgates. We just went with the flow,” Jason defends through a mouthful of potato.

“What he said,” Marvin nods.

“You’re all rude,” Trina laughs. “Now can we get through the rest of dinner without insulting each other constantly?”

The other six look around at each other skeptically before turning back to Trina. Their response is said with far better coordination than either of the blessings. “Absolutely not.”

 

Charlotte and Cordelia say goodbye soon after dinner is over. Charlotte has to be at the hospital early the next morning. For the rest, though, the hours pass quickly and soon enough it’s going on midnight and they’re all too entranced by the conversation to notice. Or care. Never did any of them think that they would be talking and laughing and drinking together late into the night. Never did they think they would ever be able to have another civil conversation at all. Yet, here they are. A few short years later. The pettiness and immaturity of times past, left there, in the past where they belong. A distant reminder that this didn’t come easy. That they had to fight for this. But, more than that, a reminder that this is something worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavily inspired by The Outs Chanukah Special and I definitely stole some of their jokes because I actually have no original ideas ("Yamakas on, homos" and "did you learn the prayers this year?"and "more candles, more fun."). Anyway, you can watch the first season of this amazing web series for free on theouts.com ! It's super Jewish, super gay, super funny, super moving and just a fucking incredible show. 12/10 recommend.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Leave me a review and share if you liked this!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @poledancingghostson


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